Comparing the majority of people I meet in America to the people in the Dominican, I found it quite ironic because it appeared that the less you have, the more trusting you are.  The people there will leave their houses unlocked and sometimes random people would just run into my host family’s house, and the only one that made a big deal about it was the family’s youngest son, Hansel.  The people would also go out of their way to help you.  When we asked for directions, a person would jump onto our bus, ride with us until we reached our destination even if it meant walking home.  Would a white boy in America ever jump onto a bus of black people that didn’t speak English and take them to their destination? 

The trip has also greatly changed my outlook on racial stereotypes.  It was a shock to get there and then realize that we were the only white people there.  In the entire DR outside of the airport I think, other than ourselves we saw about four white skinned people.  It was really quite different to have the tables turned, so to put it, and be the minority for a week.  At home, I never thought about it but it was very different to walk down the street and hear kids yelling, “Mama, es blanco!”, and to be stared at by the locals. 

The poverty there was shocking.  Even the well-off were not comparable to the average American.  I guess I never realized how sheltered a life we live here, and how we have so much, our houses and meals are gifts themselves compared to the conditions in the DR.  I realized how much we have that we don’t need and how fortunate we are that at least one of our parents is employed.   

Electricity was somewhat of a luxury, not to mention running water.  When the water was working in my host family’s home, it was really a comfort, despite that it wasn’t heated and whatnot.  More often than not in my house, the water didn’t work and we had a big drum of water and a smaller bucket with which one pours the water atop their head and gets as clean as possible. 

Much of the family’s income was spent just putting food on the table, unlike America where we are saving up for vacations and new cars.  Many families did not even get more than one meal a day, many times with no meat in it.  My host family’s father had died and mother was a teacher, and did not have much, but were always concerned for my comfort and my host mother, Ana, was asking if I was hungry to the point where it became a nuisance.  I was continually amazed at despite how little they had, how ready they were to share it all with us.

While I was there, Juan and I delivered the books to the Catholic School that I was able to purchase with the money that you donated in October.  We brought 240 books, covering all ages, from preschool to high school, and the sisters were eternally grateful.  Now that they have the books that you sent, the sisters can concentrate on buying more textbooks for the school. 

Despite how little these people had they were always happy and, unlike many Americans, did not need to spend money to have fun.  There, when my host family’s son, Yunior, and I would go to ice cream, he would be as happy as could be, where in America, to get that kind of smile it takes buying a two hundred fifty dollar season pass, or two hundred dollar play station. 

They also have a distinct culture, which Americans also lack.  Almost every family, despite their financial status, had a stereo.  Meringue music plays a big role in their culture and they never pass up an opportunity to play it and dance.  If you even say the word ‘meringue’ the people go nuts.

Now I realize that this is the big picture and that most of the world lives like these people, not like us, yet they are happier than many Americans.  I realize how lucky we are and how my host’s house is comparable to two or three rooms in my house.  How everyday electricity and water, not to mention hot water, are luxuries in a good part of the world, and how much Portal de Belen needs our support.